And They Lived Happily Ever After
by eishi
Summary: A collection of Style oneshots, length varying from 200 to 4000 words. Happy endings, clichés, fluffy moments and waffyness guaranteed! 8: Ineptitude ...in which Kyle's pride just didn't allow him to ask for help. Maybe it was a good thing.
1. Habits

**A/N: **The following series of crap consists of Stan/Kyle short stories that I didn't really pay much attention to. In other words, the ideas are very short and so are the stories, and if they are longer, they are so only because half of my writing is incoherent rambling about crappy human feelings, such as_ looo-ve_. If this magnificent advertisement didn't manage to scare you away, and you are still eager to read, please do! And if you have something of your brain left after that, please leave a review for me to tell that. :D Thank you!

Disclaimed.

**Word Count:** 298

**Warnings:** Disgusting mental images of... puke.

Rabble rabble number 1/?

* * *

_**Habits**_

_by eishi (2008)_

* * *

The first and last time Stan puked on Kyle was in the middle of the school corridor. 

Kyle had been telling something funny, some funny anecdote Stan had already forgotten, and everything that Stan could concentrate on was the way Kyle smiled and the way his intense green look sent shivers down Stan's spine, all the way down to his stomach. World had began to whirl around, and the next thing Stan knew was that it was impossible to keep his mouth shut and…

Here he was, in an empty corridor, opposite of his best friend, who was standing in a disgusting pond of puke, obnoxiously silent. Stan stared at the ground and tried to think of a good explanation; like that he had probably caught the stomach flu from Shelly last weekend. Alas, both boys knew very well that Stan only puked like that on one occasion and that this was not something he could fake.

Stan groaned in his mind. All the other times, from the very first experience of feeling light-headed in Kyle's presence, he had been able to shut his mouth tightly and pretend that he was all right. He had been pretending for years, and now, just because of a momentary lapse of control, he had practically declared the whole world that he was in love with his best friend.

He wanted the earth to swallow him that moment.

Then Kyle moved: he wordlessly cleaned his shirt the best he could and then coughed.

And coughed again.

And again and again.

"D-dude? A-are you alright?" Stan piped up, his voice shaking and oddly high-pitched. Kyle stopped, looked at his friend and smiled.

"Well, if puking on me was your way of telling that you'd like to bone me, then coughing is mine."

* * *

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! xD I personally think that this is the best scenario to ever happen on Valentine's, don't you agree? (/sarcasm) 


	2. Glasses

**A/N:** This idea struck me after I had read a bunch of SP-fanfiction featuring Kyle wearing glasses, and I thought, "Why Kyle? Why not Stan?". Thus, this was born. I really didn't think too much about it – I simply wrote down everything that entered my mind, which wasn't a good thing, because I had to go back and edit this a bit. A lot. Much. _Muchos_. You get the idea. Anyway, thanks for reading in advance!

**Word Count:** 3856

**Warnings:** Disgusting mental images of... two boys kissing. Run away while you still can.

Rabble rabble number 2/?

* * *

**_Glasses_**

_by eishi (2008)_

* * *

When Stan Marsh, thirteen years old, was first announced that he would have to wear glasses for the rest of his life, he refused to believe the eye doctor and bumped on the table on his way out and managed to sprain his ankle. Grudgingly, he agreed to his parents and bought his first glasses – with small ellipse-shaped lenses and almost invisible black temples. His friends were very surprised the next day to see Stan like that, and his non-friend Eric Cartman burst out laughing and couldn't stop making fun of Stan for a second that day. That afternoon Stan broke both Cartman's nose and his precious glasses, and thus had to go buy his second eyeglasses, exactly the same as the previous ones. His parents never found out: they just figured that maybe a set of glasses cost a bit more than they had anticipated. 

Stan wore those glasses for about a month, and when he had had enough of the snickering and whispering – which, naturally, wasn't directed at him, but only in his insecure little mind every single smirk and laughter translated into a personal attack against him – he told his parents that he wanted to wear contact lenses. His parents agreed, and Stan felt himself a bit better. Afterwards Stan never touched his hideous glasses again.

Nowadays Stan always wore his contact lenses and everyone at school had already forgotten the short phase when he had tried to furiously hide his glasses under his bangs and blushed whenever someone pointed out that he looked somehow different. Even Cartman, who always remembered everything that might turn out beneficial for him in terms of blackmailing, seemed to have forgotten about that episode. Stan's other two close friends, Kyle Broflovski and Kenny McCormick, never mentioned the matter, and Stan simply assumed that they had already forgotten, much to his relief. As if putting on his contacts every single morning wasn't humiliating enough, the thought that it was _him_ putting them on was irritating. He was the best athlete in the whole school, for crying out loud, and certainly _not_ the one destined to wear glasses. That was Kyle's job. Kyle was the one who buried himself in books and school projects! Glasses would've only suited him and his Mr. Next Einstein -image!

That outwardly usual Tuesday morning, though, the seventeen-year-old Stan Marsh had the shock of his life. He was out of contact lenses.

"Mom! Have you seen my contacts?" he desperately cried downstairs, throwing everything out of the bathroom closet in order to find the new package. Mrs. Marsh patiently answered:

"I ordered a new batch last week. It should arrive tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Stan panicked. "But I have no lenses left for today!"

"Well, honey, then just use your glasses."

Stan froze for a moment. He had no contacts left, and his only chance was to wear those awful glasses... But then again, he had no choice. Muttering profanities to himself, he ran to his room and opened the first drawer of his dresser.

His glasses weren't there.

Panicking, Stan went through every single drawer, looked under his bed, searched his school bag – in vain. His glasses were nowhere to be found, and he had exactly two minutes before the school bus arrived. There was no way he could survive the day; Stan was practically blind without his glasses. He now had only two options: suffer the whole day, which probably meant that he would have to rely on Kyle's help (the only one who shared every single lesson with him) or bail out of school.

He was about to choose to latter, but his mother solved the dilemma for him by shoving him out of the house just before the bus arrived. Cursing silently Stan ran to the bus and tried to find a place to sit.

He had a preview of the upcoming horrors of the day right then: he couldn't see a thing. He had no idea who was sitting where and what separated the students from the benches. Refusing to panic, he quietly went to the back of the bus and waited for Kyle to greet him.

"Stan? Where are you going?"

Poor Stan could hear Kyle's voice right from behind him, but when he turned, he couldn't tell which one of the students Kyle was. Helplessly Stan blinked, attempting to focus his look, but failed. Then he felt a hand tugging his sleeve.

"Stan? Hello there?"

"Kyle, what a relief to..." Stan was about to say 'see you', but decided against it. He sat next to the tugging hand, and could now make a bit out of the figure sitting next to him – mainly a green area, which had to be his jacket, and a very unfocused picture of Kyle's face. "Dude, I need your help."

"You certainly seem like it," Kyle admitted. "What's wrong?"

"I can't see a thing," Stan muttered. "I had no more contacts, and couldn't find my glasses. You have to help me."

Kyle bit his lip – or so Stan assumed from his movement. "Of course. How much can you see?"

"Well, uh. Actually I can't even see your face clearly."

There was a brief silence before Kyle sighed. "Thirty centimetres? Is that your limit?"

"Yeah," Stan mumbled, embarrassed. "Pretty much."

Stan assumed that Kyle would refuse, or even tell him to go home, since it was rather hopeless. He wouldn't even be able to find his way to the class room. To his astonishment, Kyle just nodded and didn't say anything about him being a bother or a hopeless case.

"Okay then," Kyle just said, "I'll try."

"Thanks," Stan quietly said, and then tried to lighten the mood by adding: "My very own knight in a shining armour."

Kyle laughed. "At your service, sir Marsh. Any time."

* * *

The horrors started the second the bus stopped. It was pretty easy going out of the bus and entering school, as he only had to follow the crowd, but then the real problems began. He could hear several people sending a greeting at his direction, but he could never be quite sure was it actually _directed_ at him. Kyle couldn't help him much, since Stan was acquainted with some people Kyle had no idea about (like the football team or the debate club). Plus, he kept bumping into other students, which was really starting to irritate both him and other people. 

"I don't think I can make it, dude," Stan whined to Kyle, when they had made it to the lockers. "That first-year girl vowed to kill me…"

"Well, you did ruin her whole art project." Stan grimaced; he couldn't even tell was Kyle joking or not, when he wasn't able to his face! Why on earth did Kyle's voice had to be that emotionless? He could remember when they were younger that it was always Kyle who was the first to lose his temper, to shout in full rage, use all the air he had in his lungs… It wasn't fair that Kyle had for some reason decided to bottle up all that temper and pretend to be an emotionless freak in front of everyone. Stan honestly missed that melodic voice – even if no one else did.

"Hey you guys, you guys!"

"I think you can guess who that is," Kyle whispered, clearly annoyed. Stan smiled a bit.

"Hiya Cartman."

"You guys, you're not going to believe this!"

"What? Did you get an A from an algebra test?"

"Up yours, Jew. What I really intended to say was that you're not gonna believe your eyes when you see… the new and improved Kenneyh McCormick!"

Stan assumed that the blond-headed blue cloud approaching them was Kenny, but to avoid awkward situations he said nothing. The blue cloud apparently shook his head at the red cloud (Cartman).

"Shut up, Eric," Kenny muttered. "It's not funny."

"Hell yes it is! You look almost like a human now!"

"Fuck off."

"Cartman, just because Kenny can afford a haircut only once a year does not make him any less human," Kyle venomously stated. Stan flinched: this was the first time in weeks he had heard Kyle using that tone. "It is not funny."

Stan blinked furiously, trying to see the difference. He couldn't, however: the only thing he could see was the blond, puffy cloud floating around. Maybe it was a little bit shorter than what he remembered it to be, but then again, he couldn't really tell the difference.

Nevertheless, he said: "It looks pretty good, Kenny."

Kenny shrugged. "Thanks."

"'Pretty good'? Stop faking, you hippie!" Cartman started to laugh again. "Oh my God, this is the funniest thing I've seen in a while…"

Kyle grunted something, and Kenny punched Cartman in the arm – the usual morning greeting between them. Stan sighed in his mind; one obstacle behind him. Cartman and Kenny hadn't yet realised that he was as blind as a mole in broad daylight.

The bell rang, and after a quick exchange of goodbyes Cartman and Kenny went to a different direction. Somehow Stan made it to the class room, and with Kyle's help, sat to his usual place. Fortunately Kyle was sitting next to him, so it was no trouble following at class. Besides, Math wasn't one of Stan's favourite subjects anyway. The main thing was that he was able to do the appointed problems, when Kyle whispered to him what those were.

After the Math lesson, though, they had Biology on the other side of the school. Stan tried to follow Kyle, but kept bumping into other people, stepping on their heels and greeting the wrong people. He tried to filter away the swear words yelled at him, but when he had been called a "blind fucker" for the second time, Stan decided to stop in the middle of the aisle.

"Kyle, this isn't working. I just can't see where I'm going." He sighed deeply. "Maybe I should just call my mom to pick me home."

Kyle was silent for a while. Then Stan suddenly felt a hand taking his own. "I'll lead you." As if sensing Stan's hesitation, Kyle added: "It can't get much humiliating than this, can it?"

"I guess not", Stan murmured. Somehow his anxiety seemed to melt away when he felt Kyle's warm hand wrapped around his. An odd sensation filled his head, though he pushed it away quickly. "Let's go."

"That's the spirit."

_Damn it, couldn't you sound a bit more like yourself?_ Stan thought. Kyle's monotonous voice was really starting to get on his nerves, especially when he knew that this was not who Kyle really was. This was just Kyle pretending to be someone else – and heaven only knew why.

Feeling Kyle starting to pull him, Stan started to walk and follow Kyle's lead. Suddenly it was the easiest thing in the world to walk through the crowd, and it didn't bother him one bit that he couldn't actually see the people around him – just sensing Kyle's company (very concretely, in fact) was fairly enough for him.

For the first time in his life, Stan Marsh actually thanked God that their annoying Biology teacher made them take notes while he was blabbering on and on about something that Stan had no idea about. It was much easier than copying the notes directly from the blackboard, anyway – and, more importantly, he didn't have to see anything besides his own handwriting.

After Biology they had a lunch break, much to Stan's relief. Kyle took his hand as soon as they stood up and ran away from the class room.

"Good for you that our Biology teacher is just as blind as you are," Kyle said when they were strolling down the corridor. "Otherwise he might've noticed how you literally buried yourself in the course book."

"It's not my fault that I can't see anything that's not closer than thirty-one centimetres to my face," Stan snapped. Kyle's behaviour was really starting to get on his nerves – how was it even possible to joke with that dull tone?

"Ay! Fags!"

"Cartman," Kyle greeted, unnecessarily. Stan kept his gaze in the ground, since he had no idea where Cartman actually was.

"I knew it! So you two have finally decided to come out of the closet?" He started to roar in that annoying high-pitched laughter that should've disappeared with his puberty, but had decided to stay to annoy each and every human being on earth. "I knew this! You're really fags!"

"Shut up, Cartman," Stan said tiredly. "We're not a couple."

He wanted to separate their hands that second, but Kyle simply kept his hand where it was so firmly that the certainty of it melted his fear away. Funny thing how he hadn't even thought what people's faces might look like when they saw them, holding hands – Kyle's strong hold had simply made him forgot everything about prejudices and stereotypes.

_That sounded… wrong_, Stan thought, and wanted to let go of Kyle's hand again. He didn't.

Kyle kicked Cartman on the shin (or so Stan assumed, from the sound and the way Cartman started to curse) and calmly stated that there was a completely innocent reason why they were holding hands, but since Cartman would only have made fun of them had he known the real reason, it was better to announce that they weren't a gay couple through brutal violence and weren't going to tell him the real reason.

Damn, how did he do that? How could he sound so calm when Stan could clearly sense the venom behind his words?

And, actually, since there still was that old poison behind his words: why did he do it in the first place?

* * *

At lunch Stan simply stayed at the table and let Kyle fetch his food – he didn't want to drop his tray to someone's feet or pick something disgusting to eat. Kenny and Carman, fortunately, didn't share the same lunch break. Stan wasn't quite sure could he have taken any more of Cartman's comments or Kenny's snickering. 

"Here you go," Kyle muttered and placed the tray in front of Stan. "It's Spaghetti Bolognese, in case you don't recognize the smell."

"Thanks, man," Stan sighed. "I really, really hate this."

"The spaghetti?" came Kyle's dry answer. Stan was really beginning to wonder why hadn't he earlier on noticed how dull Kyle's voice sounded.

"Stop doing that," Stan muttered.  
"What?"  
"That. Just… that."

There was a brief silence. Stan could imagine Kyle raising his brows like he always did when he was confused. "I don't quite follow you."

"That! Sounding like that!" Stan snapped. "Sounding like a damn voice box! Sounding like a computer! This is not you, Kyle!"

"This is how I always talk," Kyle noted. "You just haven't taken a notice on it before."

"I have, and I don't like it."

Silence.

"… there's not much I can do about it."

"Yes, you can. You haven't always been like this." Stan stuck his fork in his mouth and chewed angrily the poor spaghetti. "It's like… you're hiding from something."

"I am not."  
"Yes, you are."  
"Am not."  
"Stop doing that!"  
"I'm not _doing_ anything!"

Stan lifted his gaze to where Kyle's face presumably was, but naturally, he couldn't make out what the look on the other's face really was. He did, however, see the way Kyle was crouching his shoulders and hear the way he breathed heavily.

There was something behind this. Definitely. Stan just couldn't solve this strange puzzle and put the pieces together.

"The lunch break is almost over," Kyle muttered. "Come on. The English lesson is awaiting."

"Perfect," Stan said sarcastically, stood up and let Kyle take their trays away. When Kyle got back, Stan noticed that he did hesitate for a moment before taking Stan's hand to his own once again.

In a twisted way, Stan was pretty hurt for that.

_Wrong thoughts again_, Stan said to himself, pushed the tingling of his abdomen to the back of his brain and followed Kyle down the stairs.

* * *

The English lesson was hell. 

Stan couldn't discern one word of the notes their teacher had scribbled on the blackboard, and Kyle certainly wasn't helping him. He simply kept copying the notes himself and listening to the "interesting" examples their teacher was telling about something called 'narratology' and 'homo-diagetic voice' – in other words, cherishing the memories of her youth.

"You could've at least told me what the lesson was about," Stan whined, when they were finally free to go. "I didn't understand anything."

"Here," Kyle said and handed his notebook to Stan. Stan shot a glance at him, but only because it was out of a habit – he still couldn't see what kind of a face Kyle was making. "I don't need those. I've already read a few studies about narratology, and besides, that information is not needed in the exam anyway."

Stan stopped cold. "You… but… if you didn't need to copy—"

"Just take those pages, okay?" Kyle said. His voice was calm – too calm to be real. "I don't need them, anyway."

Stan was speechless for a minute. Here he had been blaming Kyle for the entire lesson about how selfish and uncaring he was and seemingly couldn't care less about his best friend's distress, and now… He felt quite ashamed.

"Thanks," Stan quietly muttered. "Hey, uh, want to walk home together?"  
"I still have—"  
"I know," Stan interrupted.  
"And your football practise—"

"There's no way in hell I'm going there," Stan said, horrified by the mere idea. "I'll just wait for you in the parking lot."

Stan was already turning, waiting for Kyle's quick approving comment, like "yeah, sure" or "fine, I'll see you after class", but when nothing came, he had to stop.

"Kyle?"  
"I'll skip."  
"_What?_"

"Come on," Kyle said and took Stan's hand again. Stan was too stunned to struggle against, and besides, he didn't even want to – _That sounded wrong again_, he thought – and quietly let Kyle lead him to the lockers.

"But… you never skip a lesson."

"I know."

"You haven't played hooky after elementary school even once," Stan reminded him, still finding hard to believe that _the_ straight-A student Kyle Broflovski was going to skip a lesson. "Dude, are you seriously okay?"

Kyle turned his head and their eyes met, and this time Stan could clearly see the amused look on Kyle's face. "I am, but you aren't."

Kyle turned his attention back to his locker, and right then Stan realised how close they actually were.

_My limit is thirty-one centimetres._

But for some strange, twisted reason, it didn't bother him at all to stand so close to Kyle.

* * *

The walk home was very quiet. Kyle was still leading Stan by hand, but every few minutes Stan felt how Kyle's grasp loosened and then tightened again – like he couldn't make up his mind was it really worth it to receive strange looks just because of helping out a friend. Stan wanted to say something, but for once, his brain was empty. Normally he blurted out everything that entered his brain in a flash to Kyle, but somehow it now seemed harder to think anything that could've been even worth of mentioning. Stan was pretty sure that Kyle didn't want to hear how warm and soft his hands were or how his presence was making Stan's stomach turn. 

They stopped in a crossroad to wait for the light to turn green, and Kyle grasp loosened again. When Kyle's fingers started to slip away from Stan's, he panicked.

"Hey, Kyle… Uh…"

The grip was suddenly stronger again.

"I'm being a bother, aren't I?"

Stan really, really wished that he could've seen the look on Kyle's face, but all he could see was a pair of green clouds and few red lines above them. Why couldn't Kyle be a bit closer?

"You're not being a bother."

And why did he have to sound like a damn record?

"I'm not?"  
"No."

Stan clutched Kyle's hand tight, trying to signal his generosity somehow.

"Thanks, man."  
"It's nothing, really."

Kyle's breathing had significantly quickened.

"You _do_ realise the way people will look at us after this?"  
"I don't care," he whispered huskily.

The light turned to green, but neither of them moved. Stan could hardly feel the shoulders brushing against him or the suitcases colliding with his right thigh. Blood had suddenly rushed to his left hand and his heart seemed to be thumping louder than normally.

"You… don't?" Stan quietly asked, almost afraid of breaking the silence. Kyle didn't answer. "Then…" He swallowed. "Would you mind… if…?"

"I wouldn't," Kyle said before Stan could even finish. He was almost shouting, the last two syllables shattered and the sentence ended one octave higher than what it had started – the typical Kyle voice.

This was Kyle in his truest.

Stan smiled, not bothering to fight the butterflies in his stomach anymore. When Kyle turned, he could clearly see every fiercely red curl overshadowing the dark-green orbs.

"Do you?"  
"What?" Stan startled.  
"Do you… mind?"

Stan stared shamelessly directly into Kyle's eyes.

"Nah."

And then, he simply leant forward and kissed Kyle.

* * *

"You should've seen the look on his face!" 

"If I _could_, I wouldn't need your help, now would I?"

Kyle was still manically laughing when they finally managed to escape to Stan's room and close the door behind them. "I swear, that was the funniest thing I've seen in years—no, all my life! The way his eyes nearly popped out…"

"He's never going to shut up about this, you know?" Stan sighed. Just his luck, anyway: five hundred unknown people passing by, not giving them another glance, and then one Eric Theodore Cartman decides to pop into the scene and see them kissing.

Well, okay, it wasn't quite fair to assume that their first kiss would remain a secret if they chose to share it in the middle of the street, but… Did it really have to end with Cartman laughing his ass off?

"What was that fat ass doing there, anyway?" Stan said as he threw his back bag away and sat to his bed. "He should've still been at school… Was probably skipping again."

"Or stalking us," Kyle shrugged. Stan still wasn't very convinced by Kyle's theory of "everything-that-sucks-in-our-lives-is-because-of-Cartman's-cryptic-schemes", but laughed to this nonetheless.

"Maybe he was the one who stole my glasses in the first place," Stan smirked. Kyle laughter died abruptly.

"Uh… Stan?"  
"What?"  
"Your glasses."

Stan followed Kyle's pointed finger with his eyes and blinked – his glasses. Neatly sitting on his nightstand.

There was a brief silence.

"Goddamnit," Stan muttered. "God-damn-it-all."

Kyle sat next to him and put a comforting hand around his shoulders. Stan glanced at Kyle, then quickly at his glasses.

"I have a feeling that I'll be needing your guidance tomorrow, too," he smiled shyly. Kyle laughed.

"Any time, sir Marsh." There was such lightness in his voice that Stan didn't recall hearing in a long time. "Any time."

* * *

_End._


	3. The Love Story Of The Century

**A/N:** Excuse the pun in the title... it honestly wasn't my intention. It's not my fault that this pairing's name is actually comprehensible and widely known word.

This is probably my personal favourite of all the fics I've ever written, because this really relates to the world of South Park. XD You'll see why.

**Word Count: **1725

**Warnings:** Disgusting mental images of... Kenny's bloody body.

Rabble rabble number 3/?

* * *

_** The Love Story of the Century, South Park Style**_

_by eishi (2008) _

* * *

_Monday 12.3_

Today me and Kyle decided that we were too old to fly kites (come on, what kind of a fifteen-year-old guy does that anymore?), so we attempted to burn them at Stark's Pond. When we arrived there, a giant mutant fish rose out of the pond and ate them. Turns out that it was one of those experiments by professor Mephesto again and it had ran away from his laboratory. Mephesto then asked us to help him to lure the fish back, to which we kindly refused.

He made us do it anyway, I have no idea how. But somehow we just ended at Stark's Pond again, trying to catch the mutant fish with Kenny and Cartman. I bet Cartman was just trying to find a way to catch the fish to himself and find out how to get a benefit out of it. He's always plotting things like that – I think he's a diagnosed psychopath, even if I'm not admitting that to Kyle. He doesn't need any more reasons to hate Cartman. Besides, I just defended Cartman last week because he had completed his scheme against Wendy and that idiot Gregory, who's dating her again. Cartman can really plot against people, at least when he's paid to.

Anyway, we went to Stark's Pond to lure the fish out, when Kyle suddenly realised that it wasn't very wise to be standing there with the fish's favourite food in your hand unarmed. Kenny died, when the fish came out and ate him. Cartman then shot it (I honestly have no idea where he has gotten that gun, but for once, I'm glad he had it) and me and Kyle returned to give a proper funeral to our kites.

Cartman tried to sell the fish to J-Mart, but Mephesto caught him before he could do anything. I'm glad he did – I don't want to eat any mutant fish in my mom's disguised cooking.

Kyle just popped in and told me that Wendy's broken up with Gregory. Good grief, at least that one poor person has gotten rid of that bitch. Thank you, Cartman.

* * *

_Wednesday 23.3_

Today me and Kyle decided to get ice cream after our final lesson, so we went to the J-mart. Cartman was there, of course, with Kenny. Kenny has really been hanging out a lot with Cartman lately. I wonder if Cartman's blackmailing him or something. Anyway, all four of us went to the ice cream stand and ordered whatever we wanted. Cartman tried to eat Kyle's portion, which irritated Kyle, who tried to hit Cartman with his spoon, but pushed me down accidentally, which caused Cartman to laugh furiously and Kyle stuffing his whole portion in Cartman's head. Just when I was getting up, Cartman took his revenge on Kyle and prodded him. We ended up on the floor looking pretty much gay, since Kyle was in my lap and because I had tried to cushion his fall, my hands had ended up on his shoulders. Cartman almost died from laughter, and Kenny literally died. He choked on the cherry that was on top of his ice cream portion.

The owner of the ice cream stand then freaked out when he saw that Kenny was dead, and he didn't listen to us when we tried to explain that it happened all the time and it was nothing to worry about. When he had called the police, an ambulance and for some reason the whole press there, Kenny's body had already been eaten by rats and they thought that he was just messing around. Officer Barbrady locked him up for ten days, because they didn't want to listen to our – 'our' being me and Kyle – version of the story. Cartman was overjoyed, of course, because he was put in the charge of the ice cream stand. I bet he's eating ice cream at the moment, too. I hope he chokes on it and dies like Kenny.

* * *

_Tuesday 3.4_

Today Cartman tried to murder Kyle again. This time his plan was to kidnap Kyle's "two most precious persons" and give Kyle gun and then force him to choose whom he would shoot; the idea was that Kyle wouldn't be able to choose and would offer to kill himself instead. Unfortunately Cartman didn't quite think his plan through – the second Kyle got a hold of the gun he shot Cartman in the leg and freed me and Ike. I swear, Cartman's starting to lose his edge.

We then went to school (after dropping Cartman to the nurse's office) and told the whole story to Kenny, who nodded and told us that he had known. When we asked him why he hadn't warned us, he just shrugged and said that otherwise Cartman would've murdered him.

I seriously don't get Kenny sometimes.

For lunch, we had chili con carne. Me and Kyle refused to eat, so Kenny ate our share gladly. By that time Cartman had also been released from the nurse's office and he joined us. Turned out that the wound wasn't that bad after all. Kyle's not that good of a shooter.

At P.E. we had to play baseball again. I really thought that we would be free from that game after elementary school, but apparently I was wrong. Craig was the pitcher and Tweek the catcher, and when it was Kenny's turn to hit, Craig threw the ball a bit too hard and it knocked Kenny out. When me and Kyle tried to drag him to the nurse's office, a meteor out of nowhere rammed into the place and killed Kenny. Me and Kyle were unscratched, of course.

Cartman saw Kenny's roasted body and began to laugh hysterically. Then he passed out because Kyle hit him in the head. Thank you, Kyle, for doing what I didn't have the balls to do. But at least I'm not the one Cartman's trying to kill every other day.

* * *

_Thursday 5.4_

Today Kenny returned from Hell. He told us that he's finally given in and made a pact with Satan himself. He's now Satan's adopted son. (The McCormicks are going to have the shock of their lives when Kenny's new dad comes to a visit!) When we saw him at school today, we didn't recognize him at first. I swear, he looks a lot older now that he's wearing black clothes and has dyed his hair black. I must admit, he looked a bit funny in that outfit, but I'm not going to mock the son of Satan. It was enough when Damien came back from Hell and started to live here. He's roasted half of the town's population already, and I'm not going to end up a toast just yet.

Cartman, of course, was eager to know what Kenny could now do when he was legally the son of Satan. Kenny said that he cannot die anymore – whatever that means – and he has the same powers as Damien. Cartman wanted him to burn Kyle alive, to which Kenny responded by burning Cartman's lunch.

Today I learned which one is more dangerous: an angered son of Satan or an angered Eric Theodore Cartman. The latter one is.

I don't exactly know how he did it, but Cartman managed to chop Kenny to fifteen pieces with just his knife and fork. So much about not dying anymore. The school counsellor was terrified and tried to reason with Cartman, but Cartman just put up his act of "my mom's a disturbed person and I have a hard time at home", and didn't even get detention. That son of a bitch. Literally.

Kyle just visited and told me that Kenny's alive again. Apparently Kenny not dying means that he respawns faster.

* * *

_Saturday 7.4_

Today me and Kyle went to Stark's Pond to skate, but the place was crowded with little kids. Cartman and Kenny showed up too, and we asked Kenny to get rid of the kids. Kenny said that he wouldn't do that, but when Cartman offered him ten dollars he jumped right into it. In ten minutes, the whole pond was ours. Wendy and Token came there, though, and when I kindly tried to warn Token that he was about to get eaten by a real-life Succubus, he told me to go to hell and tried to break my arm. Kyle defended me and Kenny was busy flirting with Wendy, so no one noticed that Cartman was joining forces with the fourth-graders. I was just about to break Token's nose, when the whole pond just melted away and we ended up swimming in the freezing water; I still don't know where Cartman managed snatch those flame-throwers so quickly. Kenny drowned when Wendy threw a tantrum and used him as a life-buoy.

Kenny came back life just when we had gotten out of the water and were ready to take our revenge upon Cartman and the fourth-graders. Kenny really did the job for us when he burned their hair and ripped their clothes off. Cartman was quite a sight in his bare underwear. I'm probably going to have nightmares about it for some time.

Kenny, Token and Wendy left for Token's place to dry themselves, but me and Kyle declined the invitation. After all, Kyle's used on Cartman's murder attempts, but I'm not used on murder attempts directed at me. Wendy and Token both looked like they could drive over me a couple of times.

Me and Kyle went to Kyle's place then, because his house was empty. His mother is at some kind of a demonstration again and has taken both Ike and Kyle's father with her for the whole weekend. Kyle was apparently saved from this fate by lying that he needed to study for a non-existent math test. Anyway, we made ourselves cups of hot chocolate and sat in the couch and watched some stupid talk show on TV. During the commercial break Kyle kissed me and told me that he's had a crush on me for three years now. I decided to act like a man and told him to shut up and kissed him back.

Pretty much normal day of my life, I'd say.

* * *

_End._


	4. Gay People Cause Earthquakes

**A/N: **I'm... sorry... for making you read this totallyrandom!crackfic. At least my earlier drabbles attempted to be good fanfiction. This one isn't even trying.

I... really don't know what to say in my defence. It's random. It's attempting to be funny. It's got gays in it. It's got Stan and Kyle. (What else do you want out of a fanfic?) I guess I should mention that Fletset is the one who dared me to write this – blame her, thank you very much. But really, without her I would still be sulking in my miserable writer's block. Every cloud has a silver lining, after all!

**Word Count:** 1808

**Warnings:** Disgusting mental images of... Cartman lusting after Kyle.

Rabble rabble number 4/?

_Now sligthly edited. Thanks to the power of anonymous (tiddle)!_

* * *

_**Gay People Cause Earthquakes And Anorexia**_

_by eishi (2008) _

_Dedicated to Fletset, because she gave me the dare, the idea and the joke… unknowingly._

* * *

Over the years, Stan and Kyle had been facing homophobia in its all shapes and forms that nowadays they weren't easily fazed by anything. After all, when they had shyly told about their bit changed relationship from "super best friends" to "super best boyfriends" at the age of seventeen, Cartman had first laughed off his ass, then attempted to burn down Kyle's house, since it gave him just another reason to hate the Jewish boy. (Oddly enough, his hatred towards Stan hadn't changed one bit. Stan had dryly remarked that maybe Cartman was really, honestly jealous of Kyle and was just trying to get his attention. Kyle had sent Stan a virus that destroyed Stan's whole computer and had remarked in the same dry tone that maybe Stan was wrong. In closing arguments, he was, and Kyle won their little fight.)

Kenny had gulped and stayed away from them for a while, in the fear of getting the "disease", but had come back a week later and explained that he wasn't really homophobic – he had just been mislead by Cartman to believing that the boys wanted to have a threesome with him. Cartman was promptly ignored after this episode for complete seven days, until he snapped and yelled in the middle of their English lesson that he was an asshole and their anger was justified.

It was the closest anyone had ever seen Cartman apologizing unforced.

Their parents had been even worse: Stan's father had flipped out and muttered something about "the family's lost honour and manliness" for days in the local bar, until Stan had convinced him to come back home and he had apologized. Stan's mother had been shocked, but afterwards she had actually been relieved and just said that it had been pretty obvious since the fourth grade – why on earth would any boy puke on pretty girls if he really, deep down, didn't find them attractive?

Kyle had never corrected Mrs. Marsh's absurd theory by saying that Stan had declared his love by throwing up on him at school.

Kyle's parents had been actually pretty nice about it – his mother had looked a bit disappointed at first and said that now she would never be able to have biological grandchildren, but then had smiled and congratulated them and went on to protest against homophobia to the Mayor's office and embarrassed both Stan and Kyle greatly. His father had been so shocked that hadn't talked with his son – neither of them – for two weeks, and when he did, it was very forced and awkward at first. In time, he had learned to accept it, but he still wasn't very convinced that Kyle and Stan would stay together – even if they had a base of sixteen years of friendship behind them and attempted to get married as soon as they could.

Then there had been Shelley, of course, who had punched Kyle for "corrupting her brother and for making him take it up the ass". Stan had been so embarrassed on Shelley's behalf that he hadn't even taken up the opportunity to tell Shelley that gay relationships didn't work that stereotypically. (Even if Shelley had been right and he usually _was_ the one on the bottom...) With the experience of coming out to the ex-girlfriend-somewhat-of-a-friend Wendy (who had freaked out and threatened to make gay marriages illegal, until Kenny had helpfully told her that _gayness_ wasn't a disease that could be caught through physical contact), a-closer-friend-than-one-would-think Token (who had curiously glanced at them and then asked, not a bit ashamed, had they yet tried _beep_ or _be-be-beep_), and the-closest-of-being-a-reasonable-adult-figure-in-youth-after-Chef Jimbo and Ned (who both had gaped at them, until Jimbo had broken in quiet sobs and said that the manliness of the Marsh family had now been officially lost, to which Ned had replied that there had never even been much of that anyway) they were really unfazed by anything. At South Park, one could really expect anything to happen, so they had suffered from homophobia and pro-gay movements in turns (Cartman at the lead of the another and Kyle's mother at the another).

When they had moved out of the town and went to university, the same little problems had been there too. Mostly people ignored them, one or two students had congratulated them and one gay girl had come to them and asked that if they couldn't adopt a child, maybe they would make an agreement to have an open marriage and make the babies _the normal way_ and raise the children together. Kyle and Stan had denied her gentle offer after a moment that could only be described as "... huh?", as raising the children would be too much of a hassle with four parents (Kyle, Stan, the girl _and_ her girlfriend).

As said before, it took much to confuse them with homophobia – but there was one occasion that rose above their standards of "normal homophobic rejection".

"I'm telling you the last time, being gay isn't normal! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

Ever since they had moved in the campus, the girl in the lower apartment had been complaining and protesting about them. No one really cared about her – even the professors just raised their eyebrows a bit and hurried off –, but it still was annoying to wake up every morning to impatient knocking just to hear another one of her lectures of how gay people were horrible creatures, freaks of the nature that should not be allowed to live in the same place as normal people.

Kyle rubbed his temples, trying to figure out yet another way to get out of the situation. "Look, Mindy..."

"Mandy."

"Mandy, see, we're not really harming anyone, nor are we trying to convince anyone to being gay." He gave her a weak smile, but that did nothing to her strict look. "We understand if you can't approve our way of life – many religions forbid—"

"It's not about religion!" she shouted, her yellowish hair falling out of its complicated coiffure. "I'm an atheist, anyway – but you should just stop being the freaks you are and—"

The rest of her sentence was neatly silenced when Stan stepped into the apartment, gave her a polite nod and slammed the door shut. Kyle stared at him.

"You just gave her a reason to hate us even more."

"I don't care," he huffed, his face glowing in red. "She's an idiot, anyway."

"Yeah, but she's an idiot protesting against_ us_."

"I don't see why you listen to her complains, anyway," Stan muttered and threw his back bag to his bed. "It's not like she's ever gonna change her mind."

Kyle shrugged. "I just want to know why she's after us."

"Because she's an idiot. Now shut up and join me in bed."

The topic was dropped for the rest of the day.

* * *

Next morning, the same scene happened again. Mandy woke them up with her loud knocking and told them completely off. Unfortunately for Mandy, it was Saturday at eight o'clock and it was this time Stan who opened the door, and he told her to go to hell. Had Kyle opened the door, he would have probably listened to her rant.

"Honestly, I don't get her," Stan muttered when he had once again slammed the door to her face. "Why won't she just shut up and ignore us like everyone else?"

She knocked again. This time Kyle got up, sighing, and told Stan to start making the breakfast. Stan huffed, a bit hurt that his boyfriend decided to pay more attention to the girl who was disturbing their peace than him, pushed his glasses back to their place and stomped to the kitchen. Kyle smiled affectionately after him and opened the door.

"This is it, I've had it! Do you two know what you've done to me? It's _your_ fault that I'm now suffering from _anorexia_, and I can't eat _anything_ because you two _disgusting_ creatures have totally make me lost my appetite—!"

It has to be said to Kyle's credit that he managed to listen to her for total three seconds with a straight face before he burst out laughing.

* * *

Mandy was so offended by Kyle's outburst that she left them alone for that weekend. Stan and Kyle were more than happy about this, since no one else ever disturbed them while they were locked in their room to "study" (everyone knew what that code word stood for, but the boys were a bit naïve to think that it had remained their very own secret). On Monday morning, though, the same little everyday scene happened again.

Kyle opened the door at seven fifteen, trying to look friendly, even if he was still half asleep. "G'morning, Min... May... Mandy."

"_I've had enough!_" she shouted, not even bothering to return Kyle's polite greeting. "I'm going to report you! I've had enough! Not only have you two made me suffer from anorexia, in addition you corrupt the morals of young children and cause earthquakes!"

"Wait... _what?_" Kyle ruffled his hair, trying to tame it to look naturally curly instead of a red alien it usually tended to be. Second, he wasn't quite keeping up with Mandy's speech.

"Yes, you do! Every weekend there is an earthquake in my apartment, and _I've had it_, the problem is clearly _yours_, because it started the second you two _freaks_ moved in!"

"Whassoingon?" Stan muffled from behind Kyle, his glasses skewed and his tangled hair forming a hairdo that any punk rock star could be jealous of. Mandy fumed at him.

"You two disturb my peace by forming earthquakes _every weekend!_"

Kyle and Stan glanced at each other, the truth starting to dawn them slowly. Mandy stared at them angrily, and they stared back, bewildered – the silence lasted for exactly fifteen seconds, after which Stan and Kyle both burst out laughing so loudly that they woke up the whole campus.

"Eh... he he hee... Mandy, I don't think that it's our _gayness_ that is the problem here..." Kyle managed to say between his laughter, "but... ha ha haa... anyway, I think you should move. Try the apartment opposite of ours, it's free... I think you won't be... _disturbed_... anymore."

Stan nodded to confirm that he was with his boyfriend here, unable to say anything except something that sounded like "happffft-right". Mandy looked at them, confusion all over her face, until she slowly caught up. Her face started to turn slowly red.

"Oh," she said, "_oh_."

They never found out was that a subtle way of Mandy telling them that they were _a bit too loud _in their free time hobbies, or was she really that homophobic. She never said a word to them after that.

* * *

_End._


	5. Simplicity

**A/N: **-sigh- So much for my attempt of writing hiatus in favour of the real world. I just can't keep away from fanfiction, can I? (Noez.)

I really don't have anything clever to say about this. Expect for I discovered that writing from Randy's point of view is suprisingly fun. :D Yeah. That's it.

**Word Count:** 1340

**Warnings:** Disgusting mental images of... beer.

Rabble rabble number 5/?

* * *

_**Simplicity**_

_by eishi (2008)_

* * *

_Not all love stories are that complicated.  
In this one our protagonist just asked a question..._

"Dad?"  
"Hm?"  
"What's a homo?"

Hearing this unexpected question made Randy Marsh drop the newspaper he was reading and look into the eyes of his son. Stanley Marsh was staring right back at him, his baby blue eyes shimmering with naïve curiosity. Randy scratched his chin, collected the paper from the floor and put it on the sofa table.

"Sit here for a moment, son," he said and gestured towards the sofa. Stan climbed clumsily on it, as he was smaller than an average five-year-old and for some reason a lot whole clumsier. Sharon had once commented that it had to be from Randy's side, not hers. Randy didn't find this believable, but hadn't said anything.

Stan eyed his father curiously, expecting a straight answer like always. This time, though, Randy was a bit unsure of what to say.

"Where did you learn that word, Stan?"

Stan pursed his lips. "The other boys in the pre-school... They said that me and Kyle are homos."

Randy lifted his brows. "They did?"

"Yeah. What's a homo?"

Randy sighed. "It's an insult. It means a man who likes other men. Now tell me, Stan, who were those boys? I'm really going to talk to their parents of a thing or two—"

"How come is it an insult?"

"Huh?"

Stan pouted. "You said that a homo is a man who likes other men. Why is it an insult?"

"Stan, it's not an insult, per se... It's... just..." Where was Sharon when he needed her? She was much better at telling Stan things like this. She always found a way to distract their a-bit-too-smart son's thoughts by promising him ice cream or something like that; but Sharon was buying clothes for Shelly, and he was now completely on his own and was forced to tell his son of a world he rather would not have mentioned. "Look, Stan, you know what a minority is, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, people usually find minorities scary and odd, and that's why they use the minorities as an insult. Do you understand?"

"No," Stan firmly said, "a homo's not a minority!"

"Huh?"

"Well, I like Kyle and Kenny and sometimes Eric too, and they like other boys too! It's not a minority."

"Stan, that's... uh... That's not it. That's friendship. Being gay is completely another thing."

"'Gay'?"

"A homo, homosexual, gay. They all mean the same thing. A gay man likes men more than anything else."

"Oh." Stan fell silent, and Randy smiled and picked up his paper again. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who could explain things clearly to their son! "So a gay likes other men?"

"More than women, yeah," Randy said absently – he was already reading about the odds of the Cows winning the next game. Stan nudged him, and he put his paper away, sighing. "Yes, Stan?"

"Dad, I think I'm a homo, then. I like Kyle more than any other person."

Had Randy been drinking his usual beer, he had probably coughed on it by now. Fortunately, he had passed the beer this time under Sharon's mean look. "Stan, uh, that's not what being gay is. A gay is someone who likes other men... like you would like girls."

_Sharon... Please open that door now and come save me..._

"But girls are icky! They just wanna do stupid things, like play house or kiss."

Randy huffed. "Look, Stan, you'll understand when you're older. I'm pretty sure that you'll up being a stereotypical heterosexual male, like me."

Stan glanced at his father and smiled, and Randy picked up his paper once again. Perhaps Stan would now drop the subject and never mention it again – at least when he wasn't old enough to discuss that kind of a thing, anyway.

Stan had already jumped down from the couch and ran to the door (there had been a sound of car parking, so Sharon was probably back), when Randy remembered one thing.

"Stan, why did the other boys call you and Kyle homos again?"

"Me and Kyle? Oh, they said that we were homos when we told them that when we are old enough, we want to get married."

"You... what?"

"Like you and mommy! You get to live together and be together forever!" He smiled widely to his father. "That would be cool!"

Randy resisted the urge to bang his head to the sofa table, because that very moment Sharon entered the house and he really didn't want his wife asking questions about that. With good luck, Stan would forget their whole conversation and never mention it again.

* * *

"Stan?"  
"Hm?"  
"What're you smiling at?"

Stan snapped back to reality and sighed when he noticed that the unfinished essay of political changes in German and England during the World War Two hadn't disappeared anywhere but was still right in front of him. His best friend Kyle was looking at him worriedly from the other side of the table.

"Aw, nothing... I was just thinking something." Stan flipped the page, still displeased that his research material hadn't changed to be any easier. "You know, now that we're both eighteen, been a while, already... we get to marry and stuff."

Kyle nodded, his look still more worried than anything. Stan shrugged. "I was just remembering something. You know... That one time in the pre-school, where we, uh, well..."

"Yes?" Kyle said with faked patience – he was famous for losing his temper easily, as Stan had to witness too many times. He hurried on:

"Well, we told everyone that we wanted to get married, because we thought that 'getting married' would mean living in the same house and staying together forever, or something like that, and then everyone called us homos."

Kyle blinked; Stan had once again blabbered everything out so quickly that he had trouble concentrating on it all at once. Stan shrugged again, now embarrassed that he had brought up the memory at all. Kyle looked only mildly interested, shrugged as well and turned back to his history book.

While Kyle was focusing on his studies, Stan couldn't concentrate at all. He kept tapping his pencil against the table until he decided to give up and closed his book.

"Do you remember that, Kyle?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course I do." He smiled. "We were a bit... misinformed that time."

"Yeah," Stan laughed, but it was hollow. He was silent for minute, gulped and then continued: "But, you know, we practically _are_ married right now..."

Kyle looked up from his book and furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we live in the same apartment, share a car, sleep in the same room, buy food together... you know," Stan stammered. Kyle's look was unreadable, and Stan bravely continued, determined to say everything he had wanted to say for a long time: "And, you know, since we practically are married already, wouldn't it make sense just to get married legally?"

There was a grave silence after that – Stan was staring at his feet, unable to look at Kyle, who was in turn looking at Stan thoughtfully. Finally Kyle closed his book and smiled at Stan.

"You're asking me to marry you?"

"Ye-yeah... kinda."

"'Kinda'," Kyle repeated, a smile playing on his lips. "Okay then."

"Wh-what?"

"I do."

Stan gaped at him, confused at first, but then his look melted into a smile. "You—you understand what I just... just said?"

"I think my answer can't be interpreted in more than one way," Kyle chuckled. "But only if you'll be the bride."

"_What?_" Stan hissed. "No way in hell! You can walk to the altar alone for all that I care, but I'm not going to—"

"I was just kidding, Stanley dear," Kyle rolled his eyes. "It's called sarcasm, you jerk. I was joking about the stereotypes of homosexual relationships in general and—"

"Kyle?"

"What?"

"Shut the hell up and kiss me."

_And it was as simple as that._


	6. Disaster In The Making

**A/N:** I wasn't quite sure whether to submit this into this series or not, since _technically_, this isn't Style... even if it is, at the same time. But I decided to, because if it's in the borderline, it technically is already there.

**Word Count:** 780

**Warning:** Disgusting mental images of... the non-styleness.

Rabble rabble number 6/?

* * *

_**Disaster In The Making**_

_by eishi (2008)_

* * *

I seriously don't get those guys.

So what the fuck are they? Boyfriends? Friends? Brotherly friends? Friendly brothers? Simply fags?

This is so freaking confusing. I know I'm probably the best when it comes to social signals – how could I not know, when that's the only interesting part that stupid therapist keeps saying during those boring sessions every week? – but this is beyond human knowledge. Kyle fucking Broflovski is caressing Stan's cheek and looking at him with that "I'm-going-to-ravish-you"-look. And Stan motherfucking Marsh is looking at him with that same look and encouraging him to continue! So what is this? Are they just joking? Or are they serious?

This is seriously weak.

And I'm telling you, I really wouldn't mind if those two decided to tell the whole world for once and for all are they ramming one another's asses or not. Growing up with my mother – who is a dirty slut, I know that very well – and under the influence of Kenneth McCormick has taught me some kind of tolerance. I may still hate hippies and ginger kids still creep me out and Kyle Broflovski makes my blood boil, as I'm reminded of my 9-year-old self's faults every day, but I have nothing against homosexuals or whatever-they-decide-to-be-sexuals.

But this is seriously pissing me off. I demand to know for once and for all what the hell is going on between those two wannabe-fags!

"Hey there, sexy." — "Hiya, handsome."

Would someone please tell me do they freaking mean anything with those everyday greetings? Does it mean anything or are they just two friends having fun? If it's an inside joke between them, I don't care. If there's more in it, I care, obviously.

It would be so much fun to tell them that I have been right all along. Tell to their faces that "na-na-na, I toldja guys! I did! I saw this coming nine years ago! Man I'm good!".

I would so love to see Stan's face glow in red and Kyle's face twist with anger. It would do them both good to be reminded that there are at least _some things_ I'm better at than them. Some day I'm going to prove Kyle that 'social manipulating' can be measured and taught in school. Just you wait, Kyle. Just you wait.

... but first I need to prove myself that I'm actually good at it. Think, Eric. Think. You know the basic information. They've been friends for all of their lives. They practically live next door to each other. They have roughly the same interests and dislikes and likes. They spend together every minute they have to spare. They _seem_ to be flirting with each other, but then again, it could be just joking.

Fuck. This is just too confusing. And if I can't solve this puzzle, who can?

I had to stoop down one level and ask Kenny. I was pretty sure that Kenny would know. If Kenny, who seems to notice before the persons themselves in question that they are made for each other, couldn't answer me, this had to be pretty fucked up.

It was. Kenny didn't know. He shrugged and said, "It's pretty hard to know are they really fucking with us... or each other."

Lame. Seriously lame.

I've really had enough. This is it. I'm going to stoop down to the lowest level and ask them. They have to answer! If there's nothing between them, it's easy to deny. If there is, I can see it from their expressions.

When Stan plops down next to Kyle on lunch break and gives him a half-hug, I decide to go on as planned. I give Kenny half of my French fries so that he stays quiet and watch as Kyle grins at Stan.

What a perfect smile. That fucker Stan really doesn't deserve it, even if it's not real.

"Guys, seriously, I've been meaning to ask you about... this... for a long time."

"What, fat-a... umh, Cartman?"

I smirk. Kyle is way too conditioned to call me that to learn that I've actually lost twenty kilos since last year. I'm not fat anymore, but you're still a dirty Jew, Kyle. Touché.

"So are you two going out or what?" I ask as casually as I can. No need to scare them right now. Stan and Kyle share a look. Kenny stops munching his fries and gives me a dirty look. Stop being such a saint, Kenny, you want to know this just as much as I do.

Then they grin at us, at exactly the same time.

"What does it look like, genius?"

_God-damn-it._

I seriously don't get those guys.

* * *

A/N: It's not Style. Really. It's not. Stop using your dirty imagination. :D


	7. Oblivious

**A/N:** This sad little story leans on more clichés than any of my previous works, so in all fairness... it should be viewed as a parody, honestly. Awards will be handed to those who figure out which famous SP fics I'm referring to. :D (Hint: there are two consciously made references, and dozens of unconsciounsly made.) Thanks for reading, yet again!

**Word Count:** 3645

**Warnings:** Disgusting mental images of... Kenny and porn.

Rabble rabble number 7/?

* * *

_**Oblivious**_

_by eishi (2008)_

* * *

Kyle had the worst luck when it came to the people he cared about.

For some reason, he always seemed to pick out people that were completely oblivious in some areas of life. He didn't know how it was possible, or were his social tastes just so damn horrible, but all of his friends, acquaintances, even teachers, were just so stupid that it hurt sometimes. Had there been an exam on life, they had all failed it in one way or another.

_Case one:_ Kenny McCormick.

Nice, quirky, possessed a bit strange sense of humour, but sensitive and really kind when the situation demanded it. _The problem:_ Kenny had no freaking sense of keeping his mouth shut. It seemed that by his logic, when you die all the time, there is no such thing as self-censor. Where's the fun in that if you die all the time before you get to say the things you've wanted to say? And so, Kenny had the habit of blurting out every single thing that entered his mind, in spite of the company or something called "behaving oneself". _Example one:_ during their first visit to the new North Park library Kenny had headed straight to the porn section and pointed out that there was no lesbian porn in the collection. Unfortunately, Kyle had been standing in the other side of the shelf, and Kenny had shouted this remark. They had been thrown out in mere five minutes and had received a kind notice to never enter the building again.

Kyle cared about Kenny, he really did. Kenny was one of the best friends he had ever had, but sometimes... Sometimes...

Why couldn't Kenny just keep his big mouth shut?

_Case two:_ Butters Stotch.

Kind, funny, loyal, a bit too naïve and a bit too trusting, but strong-willed and prepared to stand for his beliefs when he wanted. _The problem:_ Butters had no idea what "parental love" really meant. Terms like Stockholm syndrome and abuse and healthy amount of freedom were dead to him – he defended his parents on every single occasion and couldn't comprehend what they were doing wrong. _Example two:_ when Butters's parents had beaten him up for the umpteenth time and Kyle had been standing right next to them, seeing all that, Butters had begged of Kyle not to call the police. Kyle had. The outcome of the situation was a grounded-for-life Butters, almost-deaf-for-being-shouted-at Kyle, arrested-for-Christ-knew-how-long Mr. And Mrs. Stotch and horrified-and-angry-because-her-son-hadn't-called-back Mrs. Broflovski. Needless to say, Butters himself was pissed at Kyle for some time, until he finally forgave Kyle and they moved on.

Kyle was really scared for Butters sometimes, he really was. Butters was too good a person to be living under the same roof of those two abusers. Why... why couldn't Butters just come out of his illusion and finally realise that what his parents did to him was not healthy or even normal under any circumstances?

_Case two point one:_ Mr./Ms. Garrison. Unable to decide should he/she be a man or woman, lesbian, homosexual male or transvestite or transsexual or pansexual or, in the best case, asexual. _Case two point two:_ Eric Cartman. Incapable of human emotions, possibly a diagnosed sociopath. _Case two point three_...

Actually, there was no point in listing all those fucked up personalities surrounding Kyle. The only interesting part of the list was number three—

_Case three:_ Stanley Marsh.

Sensible, tender, friendly, probably possessed the most of common sense in the whole South Park town. A tad _too_ romantic, in fact, and sensitive to the point of being a cry-baby. Nevertheless, Stan Marsh was the only person in South Park Kyle really could rely on and the only reason he was attending South Park High School at the moment. It had always been that way; it was Stan and Kyle, Kyle and Stan, together, inseparable, best friends since birth. _Example three point one:_ Kyle hadn't been able to bear the thought of being in different school than Stan, even if Middle Park High School ranked higher. Kyle's mother and father had been shocked when Kyle had told them that he wanted to attend a school that couldn't – and wouldn't – educate him to his best.

And yet, Stan Marsh was completely unaware of this.

_Example three point two:_ On Stan's seventeenth birthday, Kyle had spent all his savings to buy that new _Wii.version.twelve.underline.two_ game console and the two games Stan had been drooling for a year. Stan had thanked him, had been really grateful and commented, "Cool! Now we can kick Kenny's and Butters's asses in Guitar Hero Seventeen, huh, Kyle?"

It felt nice to know that Stan had thought the game console to be for both of them, so that they now _shared_ it, but...

Was Stan really oblivious to the fact that Kyle only bought the game because Stan liked it? Not because Kyle himself liked it?

_Example three point three:_ One rainy day at school Stan had his last period cancelled, and could've gone home without Kyle. Stan had, though, complained about the rain, and that was when Kyle borrowed his umbrella, claiming that his mother would pick him up anyway and there was no need for the thing. Stan had thanked, waved and left, leaving Kyle for his last lesson. Kyle had walked home that day and gotten soaked in the rain.

Stan had returned the umbrella next day, completely forgetting the fact that Kyle's mother was visiting some random distant cousins in Denver that week and hadn't been there during the whole episode. Kyle never said a thing.

_Example three point four_... Or, actually, the list of examples could go on to infinity when it came to Stan Marsh. The bottom line was that Kyle Broflovski was head over heels in love with his best friend, and the said stupid best friend of his was just too damn oblivious to that. No amount of time Kyle dedicated to him, no amount of looks and frustrated moans sent to his direction, no amount of subtle touches made him realise such a simple thing. Even if Kyle had ran down the main aisle of school, wearing pink from head to toe and shouting, "I love Stanley Marsh!", Stan still wouldn't have gotten it. He was just stupid like that.

Ironically, that was one of the things Kyle liked about Stan as well. It was actually... _cute_ (Jesus, how gay that sounded!) how Kyle could hug Stan from behind all he wanted, and Stan never questioned it. It was _cute_ how he could "accidentally" make their fingers brush or even hold jokingly the other's hand, and Stan always just shrugged and said, "It's cool, man." It was _cute_ how Kenny blurted out, for the hundredth time, that Kyle was acting like they were dating, and Stan always just laughed and ruffled Kyle's mess of hair and said that Kyle was just messing around, like usual, and how it was their own private joke.

And, sadly, that was probably all Stan ever thought about their relation. It was a joke. It was just platonic friendship. It was just his and Kyle's way of showing how close they were, when they could comfortably make jokes about their friendship – and that was all. Kyle could still recall that horribly awkward conversation between the four of them – Stan, Kenny, Butters and him – back in junior high, when Kenny had once blurted out how "gay it looks when two guys hug... oh yeah, waitaminnit, were you guys straight again?" Kyle now cursed himself to hell for convincing Stan, himself, Butters and Kenny that it was just joke. An inside joke. Nothing else. That time, it had been that way to him, too – now it was way more. If he hadn't been so convincing back then, if Stan hadn't been so sure in his retorts... Maybe Kyle would've had bit more confidence about bringing up the changed situation. Alas, he had to settle for subtle hints, which just wouldn't work on such a thick person as Stan.

Trust Kyle to rely on that infallible logic of his that he found it impossible to think of a different approach.

But then, fortunately for Kyle, there was that famous turn of events. All thanks to Kenny McCormick and his big, unstoppable mouth.

"Write it," Kenny said aloud. Kyle looked up from his notes, giving Kenny a strange look. Kenny patiently repeated, "Write it."

"I am. You're the one who's not taking any notes."

"I'm not talking about physics. You know how much I loathe these useless lessons," Kenny repeated, still very calmly. "I'm talking about you and your unyielding love to Stan."

Kyle's face turned to fuchsia red in one second. "_Thereisnosuchathing_."

Kenny smiled, amused. "Kyle, you are the worst liar in the world. No use trying something when you simply suck at it."

"Go to hell."

"I will, probably after my last lesson." Kyle rubbed his temples; Kenny's unwavering answers about afterlife always gave him a headache. Kenny looked unfazed. "And, as I was saying, write it."

"Write what?" Kyle growled, giving up the idea of paying the slightest attention to poor Mrs. Hanson and her trembling voice. Kenny clicked his tongue.

"Your confession, of course. If Stan is too stupid to understand the usual communication between human beings, that is to say, communicating through words (in other words, _talking_), write it down to him."

Kyle blinked. Kenny was the only person he knew that could actually be _heard_ using semicolons or brackets. Sometimes it was actually hard to believe that Kenny hardly ever thought about what he was saying, when his thoughts were voiced so clearly and rationally.

"You mean..."

"Write him a letter. Even he can't be that stupid. And if he is, at least he has time to spell that out himself, as understanding talking would be too much for him."

"Stop mocking Stan, he's not... that... stupid," Kyle finished lamely. Actually, Stan _was_ that stupid. But only socially. Kenny grinned, knowing full well what Kyle was thinking right now.

Then Kyle shook his head. "I can't."

Kenny blinked. "Why?"

"Because... he's _Stan_. My best friend."

"Best friends make the best lovers, and vice versa," Kenny shrugged. "C'mon, Kyle, you know as well as I do that Stan would never, under any circumstances (e.g. would you even grow another head or lose your ability to talk, or convert to Wicca), abandon you. He'd rather commit a suicide than lose you."

"You... make it sound so gay."

"Which, incidentally, you are."

"Shut up."

Kenny grinned again; from Kyle's thoughtful look he gathered that Kyle already knew that Stan wouldn't ever reject him – whichever way interpreted – and was just running out of excuses. Kenny leant backwards in his chair.

"Then get to it, Romeo," he added, stretching his arms and grinning widely. Kyle glared at him, then shrugged and focused his attention once again to physics. Though, even if his hand was writing and he was outwardly paying attention, his mind was elsewhere.

_Dear Stan..._  
Nah, too gay.

_Stan..._  
Too usual.

_To Stanley Marsh..._  
Too much irony.

_Dear receiver..._  
Too dumb.

And by the end of the lesson, his notes were hardly talking about physics anymore; all Kyle had written was along the lines of "Stanstanstanstan" and "letterletterletter".

* * *

_Scene one:_ handing the letter personally.

"What this?" Stan asked right away when the letter had been pressed to his hand. Kyle refused to look Stan in the eye.

"It's... uh... just read it."

Stan furrowed his brows, a bit concerned about Kyle's state of health (his face _was_ burning in all different types of red, after all), but decided to do as told. He read the letter, making Kyle more nervous by every passing second, since he was much slower to read than Kyle, and when it seemed to Kyle that he was too horrified to answer, the result was nothing else than panic. Finally, Stan lifted his eyes from the letter to Kyle. Kyle couldn't breathe.

Stan raised one eyebrow. "I already knew that, but thanks anyway, man." He handed the letter back to Kyle, who took it, dumbfounded. "You're so odd sometimes. Hey, did you do your Math homework? Could I pretty please copy some of your answers? Tyson's gonna murder me if I haven't yet again completed even one of the problems..."

Nod, nod, handing of the said homework, nod, nod, another nod. What... what had just happened? Was it _that hard_ to interpret the phrase "I care more about you than anyone else in the world" the right way? Or was Stan just _that_ incapable of understanding romantic feelings?

Poor Kenny, though. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut about the matter, naturally, and when he innocently asked Kyle how was the romance of lifetime processing, he got punched straight in the gut and choked on his own tongue. Thus, he did indeed go to hell after his last lesson.

* * *

_Scene two:_ making someone else do the dirty job.

"Why me?" Butters whined. "Why me, Kyle? After all, it's your gay interest we're talking about."

"Shut up, Butters," Kyle snapped. Even if he normally preferred this "new" Butters that could actually talk without stuttering and voice his opinions clearly and had a spine of his own, this one time he really missed that young Butters that naïvely did whatever he was told to do. "Just... do this for me. You owe me from... uh, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Butters replied, more bored than scared. Kyle raised his brows; how could one not be scared when he was facing the threat of having the whole school know that he liked to cross-dress? Pushing that disturbing thought aside, Kyle concentrated on his oncoming headache and giving Butters the instructions.

"Just—just tell him the speech I told you. And give him this."

Butters took the short note and gave Kyle an unimpressed look. "And this is your whole plan?"

Kyle groaned. "So?"

"No reason," Butters shook his head. "Fine, I'll do it. Just don't expect me to go that far as to convince him being gay by setting an example—"

"Don't you dare touch him!"

Butters giggled. "Relax, I was just joking! I'll call you later!" He waved and left, leaving Kyle to wonder just when had he turned into such a hopeless case that he was actually jealous of _Butters_... He sighed, rubbed his temples again and turned to his homework. The mobile phone he had placed on his table was annoyingly reminding him of what Butters was now about to do. Any minute now...

Kyle waited.  
And waited.  
Waited.  
Still waited.  
Waited.  
(Did you actually expect the verb to change?)

And then, Butters finally called. Kyle answered the phone so eagerly that he dropped his homework in the process and the papers formed a not-so-neat-as-Kyle-was-used-to pile of miscellaneous rubbish.

"Well?" he asked, not even bothering to give Butters a proper hello.

"Well what?" Kyle knew Butters good enough to know that he was probably pursing his lips right now. Kyle closed his eyes.

"What did... how did he...?"

"_Stan_," Butters emphasized, "said that he doesn't care either way if you're straight or gay or bisexual. You're still his official best friend forever."

Kyle couldn't say anything for a minute.

"He didn't understand _that_?"

"Look, Kyle," Butters interrupted, "Stan isn't going to get it until you tell him it directly. He just looked at that note and shrugged. Even if I tried to explain that perhaps that wasn't what you were implying in that note, he didn't—"

"The bastard didn't understand THAT!" Kyle fumed. "That idiot—I'm fucking going to kill him—Seriously! That idiot!" Butters muttered something, and remembering him, Kyle quickly added, "Thanks anyway, Butters, now we're even, see you tomorrow at school, bye."

"Bye," Butters dryly replied before Kyle closed his phone and angrily threw the wholly innocent device to the wall. Not even noticing when his mother yelled from downstairs and asked about the noise, Kyle turned to his notebook, ripped out a page and started to scribble his thoughts down to it.

Even so stupid person as Stan wouldn't be able to overlook the most clichéd line ever: _I love you._ Tomorrow that asshole was really going to get it.

* * *

_Scene three:_ letting the cat out of the bag and throwing the bag and the cat to that certain someone's face.

"Stan, can I talk to you?"

Stan glanced at Kyle, still distracted by his conversation with Craig. "Wait a second, okay?" He turned back to Craig. "And, yeah, as I was saying, that episode truly kicked ass..."

"I know, dude! Did you see the part where—"

"Stan," Kyle whined. Stan rolled his eyes.

"Can't it wait a little, Kyle?"

"I..."

The bell rang. Craig and Stan finished their conversation about whatever series they were talking about and turned to leave. Kyle tapped Stan to the shoulder to gain his attention.

"Uh, Kyle, my Chemistry lesson—"

"I know, but this is important."

"Look, Kyle, this lesson really _is_ important, I can't be late!" Stan looked at Kyle, who was starting to pout. Stan sighed. "Meet me at Stark's Pond after school?"

"Okay," Kyle huffed. Stan nodded, and then was already on his way. Kyle stared after Stan and the way his bag kept bouncing against his thigh; when Stan disappeared from sight, Kyle turned to leave to the pond, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be sitting in the History class right now.

He waited for considerably long time, and his toes were already freezing and his fingers shaking when Stan finally appeared. Stan shot Kyle a confused look.

"How did you get here so fast?"

"Left early," Kyle muttered. He massaged his fingers, trying to revive them from that frozen state they already were in. "Listen, Stan, there's something I really, really need to tell you..."

"Yeah?"

Kyle gulped, pulled out the letter from his pocket and gave it to Stan. "Read it."

Stan sighed, but took the paper nonetheless. "Not this again, dude, I know you're concerned since this is our last year in school and we're heading for different universities after that and all that crap about drifting apart, but you should know by now that we're cool, we're super best friends, and there's no need to—"

"_Just-read-it!_" Kyle growled, unable to hide his anticipation. Stan murmured something, read the few lines the letter consisted, and looked at Kyle uncertainly. Kyle stared right back at him.

"Um, Kyle, yeah, I know that we're best friends, there's no need to remind me of that in... such a gay way."

"Jesus, Stan, don't you really get it?" Kyle shouted, scaring the nearby birds away. Stan's eyes went wide. "Stanley Marsh, I'm fucking _in love with you_! I want to spend the rest of my life with you and adopt kids with you and live in a big house by the lake!"

"Um, Kyle, you know, that sounded a bit—no, a lot gayer than you mean it—"

Kyle grabbed Stan by shoulders and shook him. "I-AM-IN-LOVE-WITH-YOU! Is it really that hard to understand?"

"Well, maybe it is!" Stan shook Kyle off, taking few steps back. "I know that, dude, stop rubbing it to my face! I've known that ever since you first started to give me that puppy-eyed look! I fucking know!"

"For fuck's sake, then _why didn't you just say anything?_" Kyle snapped, his face turning slowly but surely to red, and not just because of angriness. "Here I've been acting like an idiot, shoving you with hints and secret notes and all that stupid stuff, and now you suddenly tell me that you've known all along?"

"Maybe because I was just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you that _I feel the same freaking way!_" Stan was now shouting too, scaring the rest of the birds away. The boys glared at each other, fists raised, trembling from anger. "I—you—you are so fucking oblivious of something called _romance!_ Fuck you, Kyle, you're doing it totally wrong! You're supposed to angst over your unrequited love far longer time and fear that you might destroy our friendship, and all that stuff!"

"Well, maybe that's because I'm _not_ worried! We've been best friends since kindergarten – why do you think we're still that way, huh? It's called _trust_, you uneducated idiot!"

Stan took a deep breath. "You... you... gah! You idiot! You've done it again, ruined the perfect moment!"

"There is no such a thing as 'perfect moment'! That only exists in sappy movies and crappy books!"

"YOU NEVER GAVE ME THE CHANCE!"

"YOU NEVER TOOK MY HINT!"

"KYLE BROFLOVSKI, YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE OF ROMANCE!"

"STANLEY MARSH, YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO COMMON SENSE!"

"Fuck you!"

"Yes, please," Kyle growled, stepped forward and forcefully kissed Stan, who instantly returned the kiss with the same force and eagerness. After few moments of intense tongue battling, they parted, still grasping each others' sleeves and glaring each other – only this time with a hint of humour.

"There, you see, there's no need for a romantic candlelight dinners or snowfall or shooting stars," Kyle grimaced. "I hate those things, anyway."

"You're... Kyle... You're just so goddamn sensible! Get a freaking sense of humour!"

"And you should get a freaking sense of realism," Kyle retorted with the same glint in his eyes. "Jesus, dude, I don't want to be treated like a _girl_ or like some Big Gay Al-wannabe..."

"You are, already," Stan smiled. "But still, you're not half bad."

"Shut up."

And Stan did.

_Experiment one:_ put two equally socially dumb people together. _Progression example one:_ two idiots trying to figure out how and what to say to each other. _Test result: _success, complete happiness and a pair of idiots who compliment each other perfectly.

* * *

_End of experiment one._


	8. Ineptitude

**A/N:** I can't seem to handle my outplanned fics very well – many of those fics are still unfinished, gathering dust in my computer's darkest corners. This, on the other hand, was written on a whim in one hour. How's that?

**Word Count:** 1481

**Warnings:** Disgusting mental pictures of... macho elves.

Rabble rabble number 8/?

* * *

_**Ineptitude**_

_eishi (2008)_

* * *

If there was something Kyle "Perfect" Broflovski absolutely hated doing, it was asking for help.

Maybe it was because he had had to survive on his own from the age of seven. Maybe it was because he didn't want to be a burden to anyone, even to his worst enemy, or especially to his best friend. Or maybe it was because it hurt too much his male pride to admit that he did, actually, suck in computers games on the male level.

Whatever the psychological explanation was, the bottom line was that he had no clue where he was supposed to head next in the online game he was currently playing with his closest friend Stan and dozens of unknown people. The elf character he had picked was nervously wiggling her head on the screen, ironically reflecting Kyle's exact feelings that moment – and even if it was only doing as programmed by no-life nerds and informing other players that he hadn't moved in two minutes, Kyle felt like it was the only thing or person that could relate to him that moment. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do next.

Stan, on the other hand, was writing commands to the screen so quickly that one could fairly say that he was a professional. His face was glowing with excitement, strands of black hair falling to his eyes, and Kyle thought that those had to be partly blocking Stan's view, but apparently Stan was far too busy to be bothered by them. Kyle felt an irresistible urge to whisk the strands away, but caught himself in time and turned his head back to the screen, where the poor busty female was looking just as lost as he was.

Kyle pretended to do something very important when Stan turned to look at him, and when Kyle didn't look back, Stan returned to his character with a satisfied smile on his lips. Kyle silently wondered what on earth had possessed him to give in and take up Stan's invitation of coming over and playing the new, barely beta-tested online game for all night long. Maybe it had been the fact that he had nothing better do that weekend. Maybe it had been the dangerous aura surrounding his mother that morning. Or maybe it had been the pleading look Stan had used on him, even if it was still very confusing to admit that in his mind.

He clicked absently the screen, commanding the character to go forward a bit. He was hopelessly lost; the map in the right margin wasn't informative one bit – he'd have to report that to the authors of the game – and he wasn't sure from which direction he had come from. He was supposed to meet Stan at the inn in the next town (to trade some supplies), but at this rate he was going to be have to admit to Stan that he didn't know where to go. There was a believable amount of time you could be wasting to random battles before it came suspicious, after all.

Exasperated, Kyle peeked over Stan's shoulder. Stan's character was on a field, fighting some monsters. Stan was clearly very experienced, because he was using just the right spells to each monster and knew their weaknesses. Kyle blinked; suddenly the battle was over, and Stan's macho character had started running again. The map marking his whereabouts looked vaguely the same as on Kyle's screen.

Kyle turned back to his laptop, which was sitting neatly on his lap. The wrinkled sheets on Stan's bed felt uncomfortable against his back, but he didn't have the nerve to straighten those. Stan would have just laughed at him and called him a perfectionist – something he loathed to hear.

His character had started turning her head helplessly again, and Kyle clicked the screen. The map was twinkling in an annoying manner, probably to alert him that he needed to move before other much experienced players found him. Kyle took another look at the map; it seemed familiar. His eyes travelled from the screen to Stan's back, then shoulder, and finally to the very small winking map on the right side of the screen. Kyle suddenly smiled triumphantly. If he could spy on where Stan was going, he wouldn't have to ask for help. Their characters were on the same area after all.

The problem was that Stan's wide shoulders were blocking the view. Kyle stretched his neck, but still couldn't see. Why did the font of the map have to be so damn small? That was another thing he was going to complain about once he had the time to write a review to the programmers.

Kyle eyed Stan's back and the momentarily flashing screen, and seeing that Stan was completely preoccupied the game, he inched forward and tried to peek over Stan's shoulder. The map was now visible, but he still couldn't make out the names of the towns. Kyle gritted his teeth. Just a bit more, and he would see what was the name of that frigging town the small dot was running forward to. Just a bit more...

He stretched forward, almost touching Stan's back in process. He hoped to Adonai that Stan wouldn't notice him now, that Stan was so absorbed with the game that—

"Hey, dude—" And the worst thing happened right then, just when Kyle was close enough to see that he should be headed to "Grimgoth."

Stan turned his head to see how Kyle was doing, and since Kyle's head was on the exact same level that very moment, their lips rammed together. Kyle's eyes widened of the shock, as did his mouth. Stan froze, his lips still ajar, the cut sentence dying to his throat.

Neither knew long they stayed in that awkward position. Kyle was breathing irregularly, his heart hammering painfully and he was terribly afraid to move. Stan was staring at the unfocused view of his best friend's hazel eyes, his mind analyzing and comparing that sight to the usual picture of crystal blue ocean he was accustomed to see. Oddly enough, the sight was warmer. Nicer. Didn't make him want to throw up.

Maybe it was the prolonged silence that made Stan purse his lips just a bit. Maybe it was the blood rushing and thumping in his brain. Or maybe it was the way his whole body was starting to shake. Whatever the reason, the simple gesture made them both relax and the awkwardness go away, and before they had even registered it, their mouths were moving against each other and their eyes had fluttered shut.

Kyle was nervous to the extreme when the moment ended. After all, it was not an everyday occasion to kiss your best friend (even if you have fantasized about it some time). Nor was it an everyday occasion to openly talk about that strange event (even if your best friend had happily complied just few seconds before). Kyle stared at his lap, ashamed.

There was a silence for a good time, as they both were rewinding the scene in their heads and trying to decide what to say. Finally, Stan spoke up.

"Um, dude? What did you want... before?"

Kyle slowly looked up, his pulse returning to normal when he saw Stan's assuring smile. "Oh... I was just... um..." Kyle grasped his knees, feeling awkward again. "I was... uh... trying to see which town you were going, because I, uh, couldn't find the way on my own..."

Stan stared at Kyle, not able to decide should he laugh or cry. "Dude!" he finally chuckled, "next time... just... just ask for help, okay?"

"Okay," Kyle muttered, his cheeks feeling suddenly very hot. Stan's exploratory look was making him even more nervous, and he started to wiggle his head, just like his character on the screen was still doing.

"Hey," Stan said softly, "it's okay."

Kyle glanced at Stan. There were still those black strands falling over his eyes, but this time Kyle didn't catch himself before his hand was already in the air, reaching for Stan's forehead. Kyle stopped himself before he was touching Stan, but Stan hadn't backed away nonetheless. They stared at each other for one split second.

"Want to see how to beat the orcs in one turn?"

Kyle shrugged. "Sure."

Maybe it was the uncertain smile his best friend gave him. Maybe it was the tingling in his head he had for the whole day. Or maybe it was the gut feeling that perhaps he just might have a chance and perhaps Stan wasn't going to call him a fag, go wash his mouth with a soap and never speak to him again. Whatever the reason, Kyle Broflovski thought while skipping happily home that evening that maybe asking for help was sometimes worth it – and sometimes it wasn't.

* * *

_End._


End file.
